Left pow'r exerted, but without fuccefs,
Should make the little ye retain still lefs.

Ye once were justly fam'd for bringing forth
Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth,

And in the firmament of fame still shines,
A glory bright as that of all the figns,
Of poets rais'd by you, and statesmen and divines.
Peace to them all, those brilliant times are fled,
And no fuch lights are kindling in their stead.
Our striplings shine indeed, but with such rays
As fet the midnight riot in a blaze,

And feem, if judg'd by their expreffive looks,
Deeper in none than in their furgeons books.

Say mufe (for education made the fong,
No mufe can heftate or linger long)
What causes move us, knowing as we must
That thefe Menageries all fail their trust,
To fend our fons to scout and scamper there,

While colts and puppies coft us fo much care?

Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, We love the play-place of our early days; The scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that fight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carv'd fubfifting still,

The bench on which we fat while deep employ'd,
Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd;
The little ones unbutton'd, glowing hot,

Playing our games, and on the very spot,
As happy as we once, to kneel and draw

The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw,
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,
Or drive it devious with a dextrous pat;
The pleasing spectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,
That viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain
Our innocent fweet fimple years again.

This fond attachment to the well-known place
Whence first we started into life's long race,

X 3

Maintains

Maintains its hold with fuch unfailing fway,

We feel it ev'n in age, and at our latest day.

Hark! how the fire of chits, whofe future share
Of claffic food begins to be his care,

With his own likeness plac'd on either knee,
Indulges all a father's heart-felt glee,

And tells them, as he strokes their filver locks,
That they must foon learn Latin, and to box;
Then turning, he regales his lift'ning wife
With all th' adventures of his early life,
His skill in coachmanfhip, or driving chaife,
In bilking tavern bills and spouting plays,
What shifts he us'd, detected in a scrape,
How he was flogg'd, or had the luck t' escape,
What fums he loft at play, and how he fold
Watch, feals, and all-'till all his pranks are told..
Retracing thus his frolics ('tis a name

That palliates deeds of folly and of fhame)

He gives the local bias all its fway,

Refolves that where he play'd his fons fhall play,

And destines their bright genius to be shown
Juft in the scene where he display'd his own.
The meek and bashful boy will foon be taught
To be as bold and forward as he ought,

The rude will fcuffle through with ease enough,
Great schools fuit best the sturdy and the rough.
Ah happy designation, prudent choice,

Th' event is fure, expect it and rejoice!
Soon fee your wish fulfill'd in either child,
The pert made perter, and the tame made wild,

The great indeed, by titles, riches, birth, Excus'd th' incumbrance of more folid worth, Are best difpos'd of, where with most success They may acquire that confident addrefs, Those habits of profufe and lewd expence, That fcorn of all delights but those of sense, Which though in plain plebeians we condemn, With fo much reafon all expect from them.

But families of lefs illuftrious fame,

Whose chief distinction is their fpotlefs name,

Whose heirs, their honors none, their income fmall, Must shine by true defert, or not at all,

What dream they of, that with so little care

They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure there?
They dream of little Charles or William grac'd
With wig prolix, down-flowing to his waist,
They fee th' attentive crowds his talents draw,
They hear him fpeak-the oracle of law.

The father who defigns his babe a priest,
Dreams him epifcopally fuch at least,

And while the playful jockey fcours the room
Brifkly, aftride upon the parlour broom,

In fancy fees him more fuperbly ride

In coach with purple lin'd, and mitres on its fide.
Events improbable and strange as these,

Which only a parental eye forefees,

A public school shall bring to pass with ease.

But